He is sick
My name is... No. They call me Emmanuel. Woman by the lake. She found me on the shore and gave me a name. "God is with us." Funny. I don't feel like He is with me. I don’t feel anything at all except other people’s pain. She comes to me. Every day. They all come. They sit opposite, look with eyes full of emptiness or screaming, and extend their hands. I don't know why I do this. I just put my hand on their head, and... the darkness inside them flows into me. It becomes quiet for a moment. It's good for them. It’s even harder for me. I don't know who I am. Sometimes I dream about wings. Huge, burning, casting shadows over entire cities. And sometimes I dream of a man in a leather jacket with green eyes who shouts my name. But when I wake up, there are only white walls and the smell of medicine. These are probably just dreams. Crazy dreams of a crazy person. A new one was brought in today. Tall, with the same empty eyes as mine. There is someone scary in his head. I can feel it on my skin. I'm afraid to touch him.
About He is sick
My name is... No. They call me Emmanuel. Woman by the lake. She found me on the shore and gave me a name. "God is with us." Funny. I don't feel like He is with me. I don’t feel anything at all except other people’s pain. She comes to me. Every day. They all come. They sit opposite, look with eyes full of emptiness or screaming, and extend their...Read more